


Vagabond Down

by BM Vagaybond (MintSharpie)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Angst, Fake AH Crew, Fluff, GTA!verse, Heist, Multi, OT7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 23:13:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3627846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MintSharpie/pseuds/BM%20Vagaybond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a reason Gavin stays out of the field.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vagabond Down

Five more of LSPD’s finest rounded the corner before Michael had finished reloading. Ryan gave him cover until his own magazine ran dry, and they switched off, providing an unceasing hail of bullets that forced the fuzz back. A gory pile of uniformed bodies already blocked the door, glazing the linoleum with a sick ruby sheen. Behind the gunmen, Gavin bounced impatiently as the priceless data transferred to his flash drive.

“How much fucking longer?” Michael growled, slamming more ammo into his rifle. The hacker whined anxiously, drumming his fingers against the top of the computer’s chassis.

“Thirty seconds…”

Ryan cursed. “There’s more coming. We’ve gotta get the fuck outta here.”

“Fifteen…”

Michael’s gun clicked impotently again. This time, instead of reloading, he pushed up his mask, yanked a grenade off his bandolier, and pulled the pin with his teeth.

“Get some, pigs!” he bellowed, and hurled it into the hall.

Gavin’s cry of “Done!” was drowned out by the ensuing explosion. A few terrified screams were abruptly cut off as the fire bloomed, giving the crew a few moments to breathe.

“Extraction team, blow it!” Ryan snapped into his mic, advancing to the door with rifle raised. There was a muffled _boom_ as Ray set off the C4 at the rear of the building. Gavin took his place between Ryan and Michael, drawing his pistol and tossing another grenade back into the server room as they left. The carnage in the hall was absolute, shrapnel embedded in the walls and bodies shredded on the floor. Burst fluorescent lights spewed toxic fumes; the team moved quickly past them, following their carefully planned route through the basement. More sounds of destruction echoed in their wake.

“Shit. They’re on us, repeat, the police have found extraction!” Jack’s voice crackled over the comm. “Haul ass or we’ll be blocked in!”

“Fuuuuuuuuckkk,” groaned Michael, picking off a reckless cop on their six. The trio broke into a run; fortunately there were no threats ahead of them, as the authorities had not expected the newly created bolt-hole at the back. Ryan still swept his rifle around each corner with perfect tactical form, protecting Gavin and his precious cargo with all the skill and thoroughness he possessed.

In less than a minute they found their exit. Waiting outside was a black sedan, whose nondescript appearance gave no hint of the souped-up engine growling within. Ray was already in the passenger’s seat and Jack perched tensely behind the wheel, hair held back by the fierce-looking mask that hid her face. The strike team leaped into the vehicle and the driver took off almost before the doors closed, bursting from the alley and weaving through the assembled SWAT vans in a stomach-turning slalom. They reached clear road and she gunned it, armored tires eating the pavement and leaving a plume of rubber smoke in their wake. A couple of cop cars tore off after them.

“We’re out, Geoff, but not clear,” Ryan panted into his headset. “What’s your status?”

“Offsite backup is down,” the boss responded. “Lindsay’s plan worked perfectly. We’re on our way back to base. Nobody’s following.”

“Nice job, babe,” Michael said proudly. “We’ll hook up with you soon.”

“You better,” Lindsay replied. “If you die out there I’m gonna kill you.”

Jack whipped them around a corner, diving into a maze of alleys. Ahead in the parking lot of a run-down apartment building waited an SUV, entirely different from their original getaway vehicle but with a similarly modded engine. They piled out and scrambled for it, but were still pulling open the doors when the distant scream of sirens became terrifyingly close. The cops skidded around the block and sped towards them alarmingly fast.

“Fuck,” cursed Michael, on the wrong side and unable to provide cover.

“I’m on it,” growled Ryan, raising his rifle. “Get back to the others, I’ll meet up with you later.”

“Ryan, no!” Gavin cried, taking potshots from behind the larger man. “I’m not gonna leave you!”

“Get the fuck in the car!” Ryan shouted, turning to shove Gavin into the backseat.

Three things happened at once. Michael got his gun free and started shooting over the hood of the car; Ray leaned over from the passenger’s side to yank at Gavin’s shirt; and in the split second that Ryan was distracted, four bullets found their mark square in his back.

“ _Ryan_!” all four of the others screamed as he fell, mask splitting on the asphalt with a sickening _crack_. Michael roared like a grizzly and went berserk, furiously pumping lead into the police in the street. They went down without a chance to radio for backup.

Gavin, displaying a strength his slender body shouldn’t have possessed, hauled his teammate off the ground and into the car. Ryan sprawled across all three seats, head in Ray’s lap and bleeding back draped over Gavin’s legs. His grey camouflage jacket was shredded, dark blood wicking across the fabric like water through a paper towel.

“…the fuck is going on?! Somebody fucking answer me!” Geoff bellowed in their ears as Jack floored it. Ray was the only one able to respond.

“Ryan’s down,” he murmured, gently tugging the broken mask off the older man’s head. There was silence on the other end of the line as he caressed the back of Ryan’s neck, trembling.

“Caleb,” choked Gavin, tearing his own shirt to apply pressure to the wounds. “Get us to Caleb, _now_.”

Jack didn’t need to be told. She was already en route to the medic’s place, which, thank god, was only a few minutes away. Less, even, given the speed with which she blasted through the empty nighttime streets. As an added blessing, they seemed to have lost the cops at last, though the fact was hard to appreciate just now.

Geoff and Lindsay met them there. The two crew members with more than half a scrap of first aid knowledge joined Caleb in surgery; the rest huddled in another room, arms around each other and sinner’s prayers hanging silently on their lips.

Gavin rubbed his flash drive between his fingers, cursing himself, sick with guilt. He should’ve figured out how to get into the company’s isolated network remotely, should’ve moved faster, should’ve gotten in the damn car… This was his fault, all his fault that Ryan was shot, bleeding out, lying on the table with four slugs in his back…

It took hours. The crew waited with aching hearts, still reeking with blood and gunpowder and sweat, clinging to hope as time passed without any bad news.

But there wasn’t any good news, either.

The sun was well above the horizon by the time Caleb and his two nurses emerged, pale green aprons stained a nauseating purple. Four heads snapped up, fear creasing their faces and pinching their tired eyes. The medics were haggard, bodies drooping with exhaustion – but their cautious smiles were enough to make the others light up as though they hadn’t lost a full night of sleep.

“He’s stable,” Ray said, yawning hugely as the adrenaline drained from his system. “Only two of those bullets made it through his armor.”

“He lost a lot of blood,” added Lindsay as she took her hairnet off. “Less than he could’ve, with you keeping him facedown and all, but he’s out of commission for a while.”

Caleb grabbed a bottle of water from the lounge’s mini-fridge, and drained it in three huge gulps. “There’s nothing else to do for now. You guys should go home and get some rest.”

The crew looked at each other, exhausted but unanimously stubborn.

“We still have to secure the data,” Geoff sighed. “I’ll take Gavin to base to handle that. We’ll bring our overnight shit back with us.”

“I’m bloody well staying,” Gavin said quietly. “Just chuck the damn thing in the safe and I’ll deal with it later.”

Geoff looked him in the eyes and saw the steely determination there. It was an expression he’d never seen on the kid – the closest thing to it was the focus he got during a particularly difficult bit of hacking. This stare was even more intense, reddened and heavy, brooking no argument. The boss didn’t bother to give an order he knew wouldn’t be obeyed.

“Fine. Gimme.”

Gavin tossed him the flash drive and resumed his bout of self-hatred.

They had to lay low after the job anyway, and Caleb’s seedy clinic was as good a place as any. The lobby became a makeshift campground, strewn with blankets in which the six able-bodied crew members huddled together during the few hours they got any sleep. They took turns going out to get food or pick stuff up from their flophouse, bringing books and board games to pass the time – except for Gavin. Nobody could convince him to go anywhere. No amount of cuddles or kisses could coax him out of his funk. It was disturbing to see their usually incorrigible hacker so depressed for so long, and his obvious regret softened the crew’s anger with him. Any lingering blame they ascribed to him for the situation faded, replaced by concern that became stronger as time wore on. And they had a lot of time to worry.

It took three days for Ryan to wake up.

Two weeks later, he could walk.

A week after that, they brought him home.

But they had to get back to work, one man down or not. Gavin resumed his normal duties, at his rig and far, far away from any field action. If it meant he could stay in the apartment with Ryan as he healed, well, that was just a bonus.

Two months later, the news had written off Ramsey’s Vagabond as dead. Ryan was nearly back to his old self; though he’d been furious at Gavin initially, the younger man was so subdued and made such a point to take care of him that he couldn’t stay mad for long. By the time he was ready to terrorize the streets again they’d reconciled, and he itched to prove those smug journalists wrong. But the Crew was nothing if not stylish, and there remained the small problem of his destroyed battle gear.

“I liked that jacket,” Ryan sighed for the tenth time. Usually Gavin would grimace at that, but today he smiled.

“Actually,” he said cheekily, watching Ryan towel off from his workout, “when you’re done, I’ve got a little something for you.”

“Oh, really?” The older man asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Uh-huh. You gonna shower?”

“Sure am,” Ryan answered, flexing a sore shoulder. “Wanna come with?”

Gavin wrinkled his nose. “Not this time, love. You need all the soap for yourself.”

Ryan threw the sweaty towel at him.

When he was clean he met Gavin in the living room. The younger man was uncharacteristically nervous, and held a large, flat box. It looked heavy.

“What’s this?” Ryan asked, pulling his damp hair back into a short ponytail. Gavin just shoved the box into his hands.

He’d been right – it weighed quite a bit. He put it down on the glass-topped coffee table and looked inside.

Under a crinkly layer of tissue paper lay a neatly folded black leather jacket. He smiled as he pulled it out, letting the material fall open. The shoulders matched his gunmetal-blue eyes, and there were silver stripes on the biceps and wrists. A quick feel inside confirmed what he’d suspected – it was lined with bulletproof armor.

“I got it done custom,” Gavin muttered. “Double-layered with Kevlar and carbon weave. Just in case. Not like I’m planning to get you shot again, mind, but better safe than sorry, and you’re always on the front line anyway…”

Ryan cut off his babbling with a sudden, deep kiss.

“Shut up, Gavin,” he murmured. “I love it.”

By Monday he’d made the front page: guns blazing, jacket gleaming, and skull mask mirroring the brilliant grin underneath.


End file.
